


Unexpected Submission

by orphan_account



Series: Submission Over Dominance [1]
Category: Marvel, Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Dom/sub, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-15
Updated: 2014-02-15
Packaged: 2018-01-12 10:38:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1185270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint wasn't supposed to be a sub. </p>
<p>Phil wasn't supposed to be his Dom.</p>
<p>Somehow, it just happened.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unexpected Submission

Clint Barton was never supposed to be a sub. Yeah, everyone figured there was some kind of mush, however small, under his tough façade. But being a sub? That was completely unexpected. From everybody.

 

But not really from Clint. It wasn't that he had expected to be a sub; he just never really expected anything. He didn't know if he would ever have a match, let alone what he would've been in that relationship.  

 

But the weirdest and most puzzling part was, it was Phil. His Dom was Phil. Which didn't make any sense whatsoever. They had known each other for years. They had been pretty good friends for years. Phil had ordered him around for years. 

 

And that could only mean one thing:

 

they were never supposed to have a connection.

 

\---

 

Clint tossed and turned in between staticky sheets and tried to find comfort. He didn't ever have this problem. Usually, he was too exhausted after some kind of a particularly grueling mission. Sometimes he even listened to music until he fell asleep -- to a song only he would fall asleep to.

 

But that night was different. Even after an indeed grueling mission and an hour of music, there he laid in his bed. Still. He had even popped a couple sleeping pills, which didn't work, not surprisingly, considering how long he'd gone without drugs before.

 

The small digital clock on the nightstand beeped every so often, and that was the only noise he could hear. Just a small mechanical whir every couple of minutes in the darkness of the motel room.

 

Until the shot heard 'round the motel. 

 

It really didn't resemble the famous shot in whatever war that was in, but it was loud. And everyone in the motel definitely heard it.

 

Including Clint. He walked out of the room in his SHIELD-provided sweatpants (because they didn't really get to bring their own clothes on missions; you know, strict rules of conduct and such about luggage) to see what the noise was. Not that it bothered him, though; he wasn't sleeping.

 

He squinted as his eyes adjusted to the sudden brightness, and after he did, he saw none other than Phil Coulson.

 

...On the floor with blood seeping through his shirt right where his chest met his abdomen.

 

"Sir?" Clint asked as he gained full awareness and kneeled next to Phil, "you with me?"

 

Phil turned his head slightly toward Clint and gave a faint nod before Clint found a towel on the floor - who knew what for? - and pressed it against the red part of his shirt.

 

Phil let out a chuckle and said, "Maybe I should stop getting stabbed in the torso, huh?"

 

Clint chuckled as well and finally looked behind him to see a man - undoubtedly the one who had stabbed Phil and who Phil had shot - stumbling his way down the hallway in his lame attempt at running.

 

Clint picked up Phil's gun on the floor next to him and put a bullet straight trough that sorry ass' head.

 

"Well, there's officially a dead guy in a motel hallway after two gunshots were definitely heard, so I've got some cleanup to do. And fast," Clint said as he helped his handler up and led him to his room. "I probably have some kind of gauze in here."

 

"I'm fine."

 

"No, you died because of a stab to the chest, remember that?"

 

Phil huffed in defeat.

 

After Clint indeed found some gauze in some random bag, Phil snatched it out of his hands and began to feebly unbutton his shirt.

 

"Go. I'm fine."

 

That's when something shifted in Clint's mind, and he bowed his head, turning around to do as he was told.

 

"What was that?" Phil grunted behind him.

 

Clint, at a complete loss for words, slowly turned back around to face Phil, who was now wrapping his torso, and gaped.

 

But Phil began to understand immediately.

 

"C-come back over here," he said cautiously

 

Clint was immediately standing in front of Phil. And he still didn't have anything to say.

 

"Look, we can figure this out later. You should probably go."

 

That wasn't an order. Clint could've stayed. But time would help; he could figure out what he was going to say. So he cowered out the door.

 

\---

 

After a half hour of doing whatever kind of cleanup was necessary, Clint returned to his tiny room, where he found Phil. Still sitting in the same chair, the same expression on his face; the only difference was he was now safe in a layer of gauze.

 

Phil looked up once he heard the doorknob click. "Look, I don't know what to say about this, and I'm not going to mess around. So you can sit down and talk to me if you want."

 

Clint hesitated, but decided that what he needed at the moment was to figure this whole thing out.

 

"So. I'm sure we both know what this means," Phil said, and Clint nodded. "Okay. Well, what do you want to do?"

 

Clint just shrugged.

 

"You can talk to me, Clint. Tell me what's on your mind."

 

"I- well I... I don't know. There's too much, honestly."

 

Phil thought for a moment. "Well, what do you think about this?"

 

"This?"

 

"This," Phil motioned his finger between himself and Clint, "you and me. Us."

 

Clint suddenly got bold and stood up, walking over to Phil. Upon reaching him, he sent a questioning glance - to which Phil nodded - and pressed his lips to Phil's.

 

\---

 

Phil hummed as Clint pulled away and returned to his seat on the crappy bed.

 

"So," Clint stammered.

 

"So," Phil returned.

 

"Can I ask you a question?"

 

"Anything."

 

"Why did you decide to get stabbed by slash shoot a guy right outside my motel room door?"

 

Phil chuckled and shrugged. "Got a tip there was someone headed here, I knew where you were staying, and I decided to get the job done myself rather than him getting his job done."

 

Clint smiled.

 

Phil returned the gesture, and this time he was the one to walk over to Clint and give him a kiss.

 

 

 


End file.
